


The Great Mars Bake Off

by treewishes



Category: The Great British Bake Off RPF, The Lady Astronaut Series - Mary Robinette Kowal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28142424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treewishes/pseuds/treewishes
Summary: Elma had been away from cameras on the long flight, but here she was again, hair done, lipstick on. Nathaniel had pointed out the Lady Astronaut wasn’t required to do this, but this was about baking. Showing that baking was normal on Mars was very important to her.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 42
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Great Mars Bake Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/gifts).



“Ready, set,” Nathaniel said, and then winked at her before shouting, “Bake!”

Elma took a deep breath and started putting her ingredients in order. The first challenge – their “Signature Bake” - was six sweet potato tarts. She glanced up at the clock. They only had four hours in the central kitchen so she hoped the filming wouldn’t have any glitches. She appreciated the big clock face; it was a new quartz design that was doing quite well in Mars gravity.

The television camera was set up in the corner, and she could see Nathaniel shuffling his notecards and the judges preparing for the baker introductions. She could feel her shoulders shrink a little as she tried to get out of the direct line of sight of the camera, and then made the effort to stand up straight again. While she had been free of cameras on the long flight to Mars, here she was again, hair done, lipstick on. Nathaniel had pointed out she wasn’t required to do this, but it was _baking_. Showing that baking was normal here was very important to her.

She stayed focused on her pastry as the judges moved toward the long tables where the three bakers were working. “While our bakers get started,” Nathaniel told the camera, “the judges will be asking them about their tarts and we’ll get a chance to meet them.” Prue glanced at her just then, and Elma put on a smile. Sue was behind the camera and swiveled it toward her, then back to Prue.

Prue began their chat, just as they had rehearsed. “Elma, tell us about your bake.”

Elma took a breath and straightened her apron. “I’m making a recipe that was passed down from my grandmother to my mother to me. The sweet potatoes were grown here on Mars, and I’m looking forward to seeing how they work in my family recipe.”

Prue continued the thought. “Yes, sweet potatoes are a big part of our nutrition on Mars. They are the first food we’ve been able to produce in quantity. They are not only delicious and high in Vitamin D,” she said, gesturing toward the tarts Elma was assembling, “but they make a strong contribution to our biosphere, exchanging carbon dioxide for oxygen.”

“That’s great to hear, Dr. Leith,” Nathaniel added, and then told the camera, “Dr. Leith is our lead nutritionist here on Mars. She makes sure we get all the right vitamins and minerals.” Elma dipped her head to hide her grin. Nathaniel was very cute when he was just a little bit nervous.

As she poured the filling into the tarts, she had to admire Prue’s skill as an administrator and negotiator. She had realized people were already getting tired of sweet potatoes, and they were likely to be more than 50 percent of the calories consumed over the next year. The 100 people living here now meant they had to carry over 80 tons of food on the last trip, and they obviously couldn’t keep doing that.

She cut out some pastry stars to decorate the crusts on her tarts as the judges talked to the other bakers.

She glanced over at Nathaniel introducing Peter Sawkins from logistics. He was still peeling his potatoes, which wasn’t a good sign. She smiled at him, and he grinned nervously back.

They moved on to chat with Mary Berry from engineering. Mary was an experienced baker and Elma was interested in how her tarts would compare. 

They met up at the ovens. “How are you doing so far, Elma?” Mary asked as Elma closed the latches.

“Fine, really,” Elma said, then paused as she pressed the buttons to start the oven. “I always have to convert the temperature in my head.” Satisfied, she asked Mary, “Do you remember the battle over measurement scales years ago? I knew metric was the right choice because the math is so much simpler, but the potential for baking errors is always there for us Americans.”

Mary nodded. “That’s not a problem for me,” she smiled. “We’ll take any advantage over you Yanks. What I’m thinking about are soggy bottoms.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh,” Mary replied, “You know. A soggy crust will ruin the tarts. I’m counting on the calculations your team did to compensate for the reduced convection in this gravity.”

Just then, Mel joined them. “Hello, ladies,” she said, raising her Polaroid. “We want to get some candid shots for the newspapers.”

“Oh that’s fine,” Mary said and posed next to Elma. “These ovens are my pride and joy, you know. They’re on this wall because we pipe the waste heat from the power plant to them.”

Mel nodded. “Good one, thanks,” she said. She let her camera float down to her chest and jotted a note in the little book that was tethered to her belt. “That will be great for the press release.”

But Elma’s brain had turned to the comparison of the way her oven back on Earth worked, and how the combination of radiation, convection, and conduction was different here. She had had time to experiment with different gravity and different ovens on the Mars ship, but there had been no opportunity here. She pushed down the feeling of dread in her stomach.

Peter’s tarts turned out to be very fancy, with thin slices of sweet potato curled into glazed rosettes set into the custard base of each tart. He hadn’t been behind her after all. She grimaced.

Mary had also outdone Elma with upside-down tarts covered with caramelized pecans. Elma was just happy her bottoms weren’t soggy, though she knew the stars were more brown than they should be. She frowned. She was definitely feeling outclassed going into the second event.

“This is the Technical Bake,” Nathaniel read from his card. “You each have exactly the same ingredients and the same recipe.”

Elma stared at the lumpy cloth in front of her trying to develop X-ray vision. He continued, “But before you bakers can start, I’m sending the judges away so they will see and taste the results anonymously. Paul and Prue, before you go, any words of advice for our bakers?”

Paul looked at all three of them in turn. “We’re looking for perfect layers, so be careful with your knives.”

“With that cutting remark, off you go,” Nathaniel told them. Elma guessed that Mel or Sue wrote that for him. They were really very funny and were a great part of the publicity team.

Elma flipped up the cloth and quickly read down the recipe. Shortbread, caramel, chocolate. What could she fail to take into consideration this time? What clever things were Peter and Mary going to do?

Focus, she reminded herself. She started measuring her flour, margarine, and sugar with laboratory precision.

As she started to tip the melted chocolate over the caramel, she realized that the lower gravity was working against her and it was going to flow too fast. They only had a very limited amount of chocolate, and she was resolved not to waste it! She stopped and gently sloshed the melt back and forth before trying again.

While she waited for the assembled biscuits to cool in the icebox, she walked over to Peter’s table. “Hello, Peter.”

He looked up from stirring his caramel. “Oh hello, Dr. York“.

“How are you holding up?” She asked, leaning against the cool steel table.

“Honestly?” he asked as he spread the caramel perfectly onto the shortbread. “I was so excited to get chosen for this mission and, now getting to bake as well is an amazing dream.” He looked up at her with such innocent happiness that she almost forgot about the way he had surprised her with his tarts. 

“I know, it’s exciting, isn’t it?” she said, then as lightly as she could, asked, “How are you planning to finish the top of your biscuits?”

“Oh,” he said, “nothing special. I’m more worried about getting them cut perfectly. You heard what Paul said about knives.”

She had.

She glanced over at Mary as she went to get her pan of cookies from the icebox. Mary was making delicate designs with a toothpick that revealed a white chocolate layer under the dark topping.

Elma quickly returned to her table and found the little paper bag of white discs. She hadn’t even realized what they were; the recipe had only said to add a layer of chocolate to the top, not what color it should be!

She put a pan of water on to boil just as Nathaniel shouted “Ten minutes! You have ten minutes left.” She glanced up at the clock. Time was her enemy. She held the Pyrex measuring cup in the water until the white chocolate melted, and then attempted to dribble a pleasing pattern of white lines across the dark chocolate. It would have to do.

She sliced the pan into bars, running the knife under hot water in between cuts. As she placed the serving plate on the judging table, she couldn’t help comparing how professional Peter’s and Mary’s bars looked, and how amateurish hers were. 

She stalked back to her table after the judging. The judges had showed no mercy in their evaluation. Mary’s base was lumpy, and Elma wondered if she had forked it enough? Elma’s was barely adequate. Even though Paul had praised the texture of her shortbread, and Prue loved her caramel flavor, she knew the poor appearance had hurt her. She would have to really concentrate on the final bake.

They had a short break, then. She could see Helen in the audience, chatting with some of the other women. If anyone wasn’t on shift right now, it looked like they were here. Waiting to taste the results, she would bet. She was too nervous to go talk to them. She kept thinking about her next recipe and trying to figure out how to make it more of a show stopper.

And then there was no time to worry as Nathaniel started them off. “Make your favorite cake. It should serve 12 of our hard-working astronauts. Decorate it any way you want, and remember, a professional look and a relevant theme will get you far.” Elma threw herself into making a perfect cake.

In the end, Mary’s lemon drizzle cake looked spectacular. She said she missed zesting real lemons, but the juice they had here was very good. She had piped tiny yellow dots in a grid which made it look like the solar array. Elma could hear the crunch of the topping when Prue cut into it from twenty feet away.

Peter had baked a two-layer chocolate cake, which she thought was going to be very plain at first. But then he decorated it just like the new clock, down to the black lettering on white icing on the top and a tinted fondant on the sides that was sprinkled with sugar and sparkled like the clock’s silvery frame. “It’s logical to cut into twelve pieces,” Paul joked, and Elma knew he thought it was very clever. They all did; it was clever, after all.

Elma had regretted her decision to make a flourless apple cake from the start. It was Nathaniel’s favorite, which maybe wasn’t the best reason to enter it into this particular competition. She had used sweet potato starch in the batter, which she hoped would appeal to Prue. And she topped it with coffee-flavored icing, hoping that would appeal to Paul. At the last minute, she had dipped twelve coffee beans in chocolate, one to decorate each slice.

No one was surprised when Peter won. Definitely not Elma. She was a little surprised to hear Mary whisper “that baby-faced assassin” under her breath when they said his name, but then squeezed her hand and nodded in agreement.

Peter’s brother Andrew, an astrophysicist, joined him for the award ceremony. They both looked so young as they waved to their parents back on Earth.

She was clearing up when Nathaniel put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Aw, sorry you didn’t win,” he said, kissing her hair.

She turned to look at him. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I didn’t lose intentionally.” And she hadn’t. “But I have to admit it’s a nice feeling to see someone else in the spotlight.” Peter was still in the middle of a crowd of admirers, everyone wanting a slice of his cake. And of him.

Elma wondered if they were going to schedule another bake off the next time they were here. “I’d like to see him try making challah in that galley kitchen on the Moon,” she mused.

‘There’s my girl,” he laughed and patted her shoulder before going to talk to Sue and the filming crew.

She felt a little better then, as she headed over to congratulate Mary. Maybe there was some lemon cake left.


End file.
